Ultimatum

by Antony Trew

  (ix) The Prime Minister to address the Nation at 8 pm that night in the manner outlined by him to the meeting.

  (x) The media to be authorized to publish and broadcast the terms of the ultimatum after the Prime Minister’s address, and to be asked to support the Government by urging calm and resolution, and by refraining from publishing anything which might encourage panic and disorder.

  It was well past six in the evening when the Prime Minister closed the meeting. In doing so he announced that the ad hoc Committee would meet in the Cabinet Room at 8.30 pm that night.

  15

  Ascher came out of a call-box in the Trafalgar Square post office, flagged down a taxi, told the driver, ‘Israeli Embassy’, and sat back in the seat. The burly hunched figure, beard and hair hiding a hawkish face, looked more like a folk singer from the Kentucky Hills than a deep-cover agent. While the taxi growled and rumbled its way up through St James’s Piccadilly and Knightsbridge towards Hyde Park, he mulled over the Mocal tape.

  Most of it made sense but he was still puzzled by contact terms and market reaction. Some sort of ultimatum associated with a bomb attack on the Embassy? Public reaction to its terms? Was it to be a hostage operation? An exchange for terrorist prisoners? Unlikely in London. There weren’t any. Not Palestinians at any rate. And there were two things terrorists knew for certain. One – the Israeli Embassy bristled with security systems. Two – the Israelis liked to shoot it out. They didn’t worry too much about hostages, reckoning that dead terrorists were just about the best deterrent around for live terrorists. Other countries, big powerful ones like West Germany, Britain and Italy, negotiated, haggled, bargained, waffled about the sanctity of human life to people who didn’t know what the words meant, released terrorists convicted of murder, paid huge ransoms, laid on aircraft to fly them to destinations of their choice and, if need be, sent their own diplomats along as guarantors of good faith.

  The Israelis shot it out. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. It still worked as it had done through history. Even terrorists were motivated by the desire to remain alive.

  The taxi passed the Albert Hall and at the end of Kensington Gardens turned right and stopped at the gates at the foot of Palace Green. Ascher showed his pass to the top-hatted commissionaire who waved the taxi on. The driver stopped outside the locked gates of No. 2, Ascher settled the fare, showed his pass to a security guard at the gates and to another at the main entrance. He rarely visited the Embassy. Only a few senior officials knew who he was. None had any knowledge of his assignments other than the Ambassador and Ezra Barlov, Head of Intelligence. The Ambassador was known to treat Ascher with respect. Other officials took their cue from the Ambassador. Shalom Ascher was evidently an important person.

  Today he was expected. The security guards had been briefed and there was no delay. He was ushered into the First Secretary’s office by an almond-eyed young woman whose assured manner suggested she was used to taking charge.

  When she had gone the First Secretary, a balding man with cold eyes, held out a limp hand. ‘Good afternoon, Ascher. What can I do for you?’

  Ascher shook his head. ‘Nothing. I want to see the Ambassador.’

  The First Secretary smiled thinly. ‘Pity you didn’t mention that when you phoned. He’s in Liverpool for Marcus Friedman’s funeral.’

  Ascher hadn’t the faintest idea who Marcus Friedman was, nor did he care. ‘I realized he might be away. Ezra Barlov will do.’

  Another thin smile came from the First Secretary. ‘Barlov’s up at Holy Loch. Looking at the latest US nuke. It has the Poseidon missiles.’

  Ascher spread his hands in a gesture of impatience. ‘Who’s left in ID then?’

  ‘Michael Kagan.’

  ‘Micky Kagan! When did he come here?’

  ‘Ten days ago.’

  ‘He’ll do. Call him down. And let’s have a recorder in here.’

  ‘Certainly.’ The First Secretary eyed him coolly as he flicked a switch on the desk intercom. ‘Ask Captain Kagen to come down, please, Miss Simons. And bring in a tape recorder, please.’ He put heavy emphasis on the ‘pleases’.

  Soon afterwards there was a knock at the door and the almond-eyed girl came in with the tape recorder. ‘Captain Kagan,’ she announced.

  The man who followed her was young and slight with spaniel’s eyes which blinked with deceptive meekness. ‘Hullo, Shalom.’ he said. ‘What the hell?’

  The two men grinned, shook hands warmly. They’d spent three weeks together in the October War disguised as Bedouins, moving about behind the Syrian lines on the Golan Heights.

  The girl set the recorder on the desk and plugged it in. When she’d gone Ascher took the Mocal tape from his pocket and put it on the machine. ‘It was recorded this morning. Don’t ask me how, where or by whom because I won’t tell you.’

  When the tape had been played through he gave his interpretation, told them of his doubts, explained what it might be about. There was a long discussion after which the First Secretary said, ‘Right. We’ll assume it’s laid on for tonight. I’ll brief Joe Kowarsky. He’ll tighten up security and let the Yard know.’

  ‘Not about this tape, he won’t,’ said Ascher grimly. ‘I’m not having my cover blown. This operation is top secret – and I mean top.’

  ‘There was no intention of mentioning you or the tape.’ The First Secretary was irritated. ‘They’ll double-check vehicles coming into or parked in and around Palace Green. Kowarsky will see to the rest. Terrorists won’t get much change if they try anything here.’ Joe Kowarsky was the Embassy’s chief security officer.

  There was a discussion about possibilities and probabilities which would have gladdened the heart of Jakob Kahn, Ascher missing no opportunity to knock out of the ground any loose ball bowled by the First Secretary. When the clock over the door chimed four he got up. ‘I must go now,’ he said. He looked at the First Secretary. ‘Put the Ambassador in the picture when he arrives.’

  ‘Of course,’ said the First Secretary coldly.

  ‘When’s he due?’

  ‘At seven. He’s got a dinner party at eight-thirty.’

  Ascher watched the First Secretary with critical eyes. He didn’t like the man. A cold fish. Too precise. The antipathy must be chemical, he decided. He went to the door. ‘See you,’ he said in a toneless voice. He smiled at Kagan. ‘’Bye, Mick. Watch it boy.’

  Kagan smiled back. ‘You, too, Shalom.’

  When Ascher had gone the First Secretary said, ‘Know him well?’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘A ruthless bastard but a good friend and a bloody good agent.’

  ‘What makes him so good?’

  ‘He’s highly intelligent, very industrious and extremely patient. Never lets go.’

  ‘I don’t think I like him. Bad manners are unattractive.’

  Kagan smiled. ‘Watch it, Julius. He’s a dangerous man.’

  ‘In what way dangerous?’

  ‘He’s a killer. By practice and precept. I’ve seen him at it.’

  The First Secretary looked at the young man with disapproval. ‘I think we’d better get busy. There’s not much time. Ask Kowarsky to come down.’

  Soon after 7 pm a black Rover 3500 flying an Israeli pennant stopped in Downing Street. Two security guards stepped from the car and spoke to the policemen on duty outside Number Ten. A policeman rang the bell, the front door opened and the Israeli Ambassador walked quickly from the Rover into the building.

  Andrew Lanyard met them in the hall. ‘Please follow me, Ambassador.’ He led the way down a passage to the library at its far end. The Prime Minister stood up, put the papers he’d been reading on a table and greeted his visitor. The two men exchanged courtesies and made themselves comfortable in leather armchairs beneath shaded lights flanked by book-lined walls.

  ‘I’m afraid, Ambassador, that I have grave news for you. I suggest you read this before we go any further.’ The Prime M
inister passed across a copy of the ultimatum with the photographs attached.

  The Ambassador’s face as he read the document and studied the photographs remained impassive. When he’d finished he took off his glasses, looked searchingly at the Prime Minister. ‘What does your Government propose to do?’ It was said quietly and with restraint.

  The Prime Minister summarized the discussions which had taken place in the Cabinet Room that afternoon. At the finish he said, ‘You will, Ambassador, I am sure, appreciate that we cannot under any circumstances accept the destruction of a substantial part of London and the killing and maiming of tens of thousands of our people.’

  ‘In other words, Prime Minister, you are telling me that your Government will accept the terms of the ultimatum. That Israel alone is expected to pay the price for that acceptance. You surely do not believe that Israel will meet those territorial demands and so make impossible the defence of what remains of her territory.’

  The Ambassador’s eyes held the Prime Minister’s.

  ‘By no means all the price, Ambassador. The ultimatum demands the sum of ten billion dollars towards the cost of setting up a Palestinian State. Britain and the United States will have to find the money. It will entail grievous sacrifices on the part of our people. Furthermore, acceptance will demand from us a price in terms of moral and diplomatic humiliation which cannot be measured.’

  ‘Then don’t accept. It may be a bluff. Even if it isn’t, it’s better to do what is morally right and leave the consequences to God.’

  The Prime Minister busied himself with his pipe. It was a useful manoeuvre for gaining time. ‘Who is to say what is morally right in such circumstances? You must know that you suggest a course of action which is quite impossible. Furthermore, you overlook a factor of the greatest importance.’

  The Israeli Ambassador regarded the Prime Minister with sceptical, dubious eyes. ‘And what is that?’

  ‘Unless something quite unexpected, quite unpredictable, occurs in the next sixty-four hours we will have no option – no viable option – but to accept the terms of the ultimatum. But acceptance is not the end of the matter.’

  ‘I don’t follow, Prime Minister.’

  The Prime Minister assumed the air of bland innocence to which he often resorted in moments of crisis in the House and at party conferences. ‘We accept …’ He smiled without humour. ‘We give them the undertakings required of us. But consider those undertakings. They will take time to implement. And it is time we so desperately need. We can add days, weeks, maybe months, to the seventy-two hours stipulated in the ultimatum. Each hour, each day, we gain increases our chances of finding the warhead, of wearing down the nerves of those responsible for it, of starving them out psychologically. Of reaching a position where we can take positive onward-going action.’

  ‘Such as bringing pressure to bear on Israel.’ The Ambassador shook his head. ‘What you have told me about acceptance is – and I say this with the utmost respect – a typically political, a typically British response. What the French call la perfidie d’Albion.’ He paused, his mind filled with suspicions of another sort of perfidy. An oil deal. The ultimatum was addressed to the United Kingdom and the United States. Was there connivance? Had this scenario been set up with the Arabs? What better, more convincing, more respectable case could be made for ditching the cause of Israel? He said, ‘It will not work, Prime Minister. I think my country understands better than yours the people with whom we are dealing. Through force of circumstance we know best how to handle them. You cannot in a dangerous world always play the field from a position of safety. You must take risks to succeed. You must have a moral basis for your struggle if you are to survive.’

  The Prime Minister did not like those implications. ‘We have a good deal of experience of that sort of thing,’ he said tartly.

  ‘I appreciate the dilemma in which your Government finds itself.’ The Israeli Ambassador, having made his point, decided to recover lost ground. ‘You cannot threaten reprisals because there is no Palestine State to visit them on. Your problem is immensely difficult, appalling in its implications. For Britain, for Israel and for the world.’

  ‘I must ask you, Ambassador, to exercise the utmost discretion in regard to my remarks about acceptance. I would not have taken you into my confidence had not Israel been so inextricably and tragically involved.’ The Prime Minister stood up. ‘And now I must ask you to excuse me. I have to speak to the Nation at eight o’clock.’ He looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. ‘That is in twenty minutes. I have had little opportunity for preparation.’ He shook the Ambassador’s hand. ‘When I have finished speaking the ultimatum will be known to the world. Please assure your Government that we shall keep them fully informed as the situation develops.’

  After they had taken their leave of each other, Lanyard saw the Israeli Ambassador to the front door.

  The Ambassador’s return from Liverpool had been delayed. On reaching the Embassy, and learning of the Prime Minister’s urgent summons to Number Ten, he had left at once for Downing Street, brushing aside the First Secretary’s attempts to tell him of Ascher’s visit, saying it could await his return.

  When he got back to the Embassy just before eight he went to his study. He switched on television as the announcement was made that the Prime Minister would address the Nation.

  16

  At 6 pm all television channels of the BBC and ITV – and all radio channels of the BBC – interrupted their services to put out a newsflash. It announced that the Prime Minister would address the Nation at 8 pm on a matter of grave importance. It was followed by five minutes of patriotic music, a circumstance which reminded older listeners of the prelude to Mr Chamberlain’s announcement of the declaration of war against Hitler’s Germany in 1939.

  At 6.30 and 7.30 pm, television and radio stations again interrupted their services to remind listeners that the Prime Minister would speak to the Nation at 8 pm. This announcement, like its predecessor, was followed by excerpts from patriotic and martial music. These included Land of Hope and Glory and Colonel Bogey which evoked in many listeners recollections of the Last Night of the Proms and the Bridge Over the River Kwai which was not quite what was intended.

  At 8 pm the Prime Minister, looking unusually drawn and strained, appeared on television to address the Nation.

  ‘I have to speak to you tonight,’ he said, ‘about a matter of the utmost gravity. Before doing so I want to stress the importance of calm and reason, particularly on the part of those who live in London. At an emergency meeting of the Cabinet today I was asked to assure you that the Government will take all and every step necessary to ensure that the peril which threatens will not occur. Of that you may have no doubt. It will not, I repeat, be allowed to occur. That is an absolute undertaking and one which I must ask you to keep in the forefront of your mind as I speak. This morning I received, as did the Ambassador of the United States, an ultimatum from a Palestinian terrorist group, the Soukour-al-Sahra’. The ultimatum was addressed to the British Government as the former mandatory power for Palestine. It claims that a nuclear warhead has been placed somewhere in London and that it will be detonated within seventy-two hours, as from noon today, unless the Governments of the United Kingdom and the United States accede to its terms. The hard core of these is dealt with in the following words. I read: All Palestinian territory seized by Israel in 1948 in excess of the United Nations resolution of the 29th November, 1947, for the partition of Palestine, together with those parts of Palestine not occupied by Israel before 1967, notably on the west bank of the Jordan and in the Gaza Strip and Jerusalem, to be assigned forthwith to the people of Palestine.

  ‘That is the ultimatum’s basic demand. It contains a number of other terms and conditions of a harsh and implacable nature. Since these will be published in all British newspapers tomorrow, and broadcast over the country’s television and radio networks several times during the day, I will refrain from dealing with them now.
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br />   ‘My purpose tonight is to assure you that there is no need for panic, no cause to interrupt or vary the routine of your normal lives. Indeed, to do so can only add to the grave difficulties already confronting us. The important – I believe the decisive – contribution each of you can make is to behave as if the threat had never existed. Let “business as usual” be your watchword over the next few days.

  ‘I can assure you that the Government is taking most vigorous and energetic steps to deal with the situation. I am in constant touch by hot-line with the President of the United States and the Heads of Governments in France, Germany and other friendly and concerned powers.

  ‘At its meeting today the Cabinet appointed an ad hoc Committee consisting of the Home, Foreign and Defence Secretaries, the Chief of the General Staff, the heads of the Security Services, the Special Branch, Scotland Yard and the Metropolitan Police, together with representatives of the GLC and Port of London Authority. That Committee, over which I shall preside, has been given full power to act and will remain in constant session until such time as the threat has been removed. We will of course report to the Cabinet at frequent intervals.

  ‘It is possible that this is a bluff, that there is no nuclear warhead in London. But we are proceeding on the assumption that it is not a bluff, and I give you once more the Government’s unequivocal assurance that before the expiry of the seventy-two hour deadline the threat to London will have been removed.

  ‘For obvious reasons I cannot at this stage explain to you how this will be done, but I ask you to accept my assurance, given with knowledge of all the facts, that it will be done.’

  Richard Baker’s face appeared on the television screen. ‘And that concludes the Prime Minister’s address to the Nation.’ He said it in much the manner he would have used to announce the programme of a forthcoming Proms concert. ‘At eight-thirty,’ he continued, ‘the ultimatum will be the subject of …’